


The Resident

by moonsbane



Category: Original Work
Genre: Dark, Horror, Mystery, Paranormal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-03
Updated: 2014-06-03
Packaged: 2018-02-03 06:55:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1735301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonsbane/pseuds/moonsbane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who is the real intruder?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Resident

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first story I post here, be sure to comment if you have anything to say! Reviews and advice are always welcome :)
> 
> You can also read it on my other account here: http://www.wattpad.com/story/17212861-the-resident
> 
> By the way, English is not my native language so sorry for any mistakes!

 

 

It’s dark, too dark to see, but I can hear him entering the room again.  Can you hear him? How he breathes heavily, breath moving the dust in the air.

 

It’s been four nights since they have invaded my home, these loud and dull and _living_ people. I’ve waited patiently for them to leave, like many others before them, scared off by the creaks of the walls and the sliding shadows in the corners. These, however, these unnatural beings, seem untouched by the wails of this old and holy house. They come and go as if it were their right, as if they were worthy of treading on these sacred boards.

 

I’ll do it tonight. I’ll drag them in the darkness, before it’s too late. After all, this place was built on blood and on blood it shall persevere.

 

I’ve been here for decades, centuries, millenniums. I’ve been here since this earth was just grass and mud, crawling insects and everlasting rain. I remember a time when men feared us, they offered sacrifices in our honor and we grew. We thrived like roses in spring, like black souls, vicious and with so much _delicious_ darkness.

 

Ours, however, was not an era destined to last. Not much time passed before the humans started to worship other gods… those who offered promises of life and light, of salvation and eternal peace. Fools. Simpletons. The only certain thing in their miserable and pathetic existences is death. The fall into darkness. There is no other alternative.

 

Their denial of this destiny makes us rummage during the wait, picking up from the waste of the little that is presented to us. We collect the scraps, like sewer rats would with crumbs in the filthy rain water. This house has collected so many souls in time, travelers, beggars, drug addicts, souls corrupted by modern times and _desire_ , _craving_. I know it well, I am the one who gathers them.

 

Like I will tonight. You can watch if you want, observe carefully the power and the sensuality of death. Watch closely, for it could be the last time you happen to see a sight such as this.

 

She’s going over to him, I can hear the heels falling heavily on the wooden floor. This woman who is not his wife. His wife is at home, putting the children to bed, unaware of the betrayal of the man she has promised to love and respect, until death do them part.  
  
From my corner I’ll be able to reach the bed, moving between the cracks, I’ll slide on the bedpost and then… then for the best part.  
  
I can hear the springs in the mattress squeak. The time has come. Hold your breath.  
  
Soon, very soon, we will have newcomers in our ranks.  
  


 

 

 

 


End file.
